


The Frenzy

by Silverskin



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Bukkake, Dry Humping, Forced Orgasm, Gang Rape, M/M, Nipple Play, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 19:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17310734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverskin/pseuds/Silverskin
Summary: Our hero is sent to ascertain the effects of a parasite outbreak, and gets a far more intimate understanding than he ever wanted.





	The Frenzy

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2012, I've made some minor revisions and grammar corrections. Let me know if there are any mistakes. Comments welcome!

Through the dawn sea mist, Chris Redfield carefully steered his small skiff towards the quiet, flotsam-covered shore of a sandy bay. 

He was approaching Kijuju, the African town sealed off by joint military forces after its residents had all been transformed into Majini by a new breed of Las Plagas parasite. Sent by B.S.A.A on a covert mission, he had to determine the effects of this new variant on unfortunate populace, deliberately infected by the Tricell Company. Chris stepped warily onto the sand, his pistol held ready, scanning the foggy beach for any activity. With not a soul to be seen, he dragged his boat above the tideline and headed up the beach to find a hiding place from which to spy on the locals, passing rusting shipping containers and burnt-out buses as he went.

He moved quietly along streets of orange dirt flanked by ramshackle houses, stopping at corners and peering around them before moving on. The place was silent but for the squawking of a few crows hopping about on the corrugated iron rooftops around him. As he neared the center of town, Chris spotted a place which seemed perfect for his purposes. It was a modest three storey building, bare and unoccupied, its top floor unfinished and roofless, with steel rods poking out from reinforced concrete columns. He figured they must have been in the middle of building the place when the infestation began.

 _That’ll do nicely_ , Chris thought, heading towards the scaffolding running up a side wall.

He slowly climbed the framework of iron poles and ladders, trying not to dislodge any of the tools lying scattered on each of the working platforms on his way up. On reaching the top, he clambered through an aperture were a window should have been, his feet landing with a crunch on the gritty floor. A single room made up the entire level, the space completely grey and unpainted, with some stairs visible through a doorway at the back. Chris moved some tools and a workbench before kneeling down behind a window cavity in the front wall. He peered over the ledge and looked down on the open patch of land that passed for the town square. In the distance he could see the high wall that sealed off the town from the outside world.

“Well, if I’m going to see anything, it’ll be from here,” he concluded, absent-mindedly scratching a tiny syringe mark on his upper arm for the fifth time today.

For the next couple of hours he waited, sweating it out in the rising heat while he watched for the locals to appear. He had just finished checking his spare gun clips for the millionth time when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. Chris ducked down, taking a small scope from his belt pack to spy on a tall figure ambling into the space below him. The beefy looking man wore aviator shades and a black leather jacket, and gripped a megaphone in one hand. As he stepped onto a small wooden platform in the middle of the field, he brought the megaphone to his lips and started shouting in Swahili, turning like a lighthouse to cover the whole neighbourhood. Chris didn’t understand a word, but soon enough men began to emerge from their houses and converge on the square. They were not at all the wiry types he was expecting, but looked tall and beefy under their shabby clothes.

“Gym-fit Majini........that’s a new one”, Chris mused.

One thing was for sure, they were definitely Majini. All the signs were there. The silvery sheen to their dark skin and the glaring red eyes marked them out. Chris concluded that the man in the middle must have been an Agitator Majini, a kind of leader he’d been briefed about, whom the others were compelled by instinct to obey.

Unlike mindless zombies, Majini kept most of their intelligence, but the parasite corrupted their higher reasoning, making them difficult to predict. Unfortunately there were a few things about these Majini that Chris didn’t know.

They were infested by the new Type 4 Plagas, which took hold of the town’s men and remade them, corrupting their reasoning and giving them a ravenous sexual desire for any uninfected male. The host's sperm count was quadrupled, and the wriggling gametes converted into the perfect delivery system for the parasite’s D.N.A.  The creatures also ramped up their host’s strength, while enhancing their sense of smell and taste, so even the slightest whiff of an uninfected man's perspiration drifting on the wind was enough to transform them into sex-crazed bloodhounds.

Oblivious to all this was an increasingly sweaty Chris Redfield, who had no idea of the true danger that the men below posed.

Hundreds of them now encircled the Agitator, pumping their fists in the air and cheering as it incited them to satisfy their sexual thirst with any unsuspecting foreigner they found. Deep, lust-drenched words echoed off the walls around Chris, who peered through the lens with increased fascination. Out of sight below, a single tall muscular Majini walked past the scaffolding, halting mid-stride as a few stray molecules caught his olfactory nerves. He slowly walked up to one of the steel poles, tentatively sniffing at it before letting his tongue slide over the cold surface. Chris had left his mark on the metal hours earlier, a single smear from his clammy palm. It was dry now, but the tiny traces were still more than enough for the Majini’s enhanced taste buds to detect. Flaming red irises dilated as the parasite-corrupted man instantly recognised the taste. He looked up slowly at the half-finished building, his face flushing with crazed expectation.

“I should get some shots of this.” Chris decided, using the scope’s record button.

After filming some wide-angle footage of the mob, he zoomed in on the Agitator, capturing him mid-rant as he waved his arm violently at the crowd, his face full of thunder.

“That’s right, smile for the camera”, whispered the hero as his subject grinned darkly, having received another massive cheer.

“Can’t wait to get this back to HQ, then I can find out what the hell it is you’re sayi-”

Chris froze in the middle of pocketing his scope, having heard a gravelly footstep behind him.

He turned slowly to see a bulky, scruffy-clothed Majini standing in the doorway, his burning eyes opened so wide it seemed like they might pop from his skull. A split second of silence passed before he lunged at Chris, knocking him off his feet just before he could get his pistol aimed. The handgun clattered into a corner and his back hit the floor, the tall hefty attacker landing on top of him and wrapping his limbs around Chris’ mid-section. Plumes of grey dust flew up into the sunlight as they rolled around on the concrete surface together in a tight embrace, knocking paint pots and tools in all directions. On his back again, Chris tried to reach for his Machete, but his attacker grabbed his wrist, slamming it hard against the floor above his head. The other hand followed swiftly after, and the Majini spread his knees wide, pinning Chris by the hips with his body weight to stop him rolling away.

With his prey firmly secured, the Majini quickly made his intentions glaringly clear. He slammed his lips against Chris’ mouth, his thick tongue momentarily slipping inside before the shocked agent could react.

“MMMPH-FUCK!” He yelled, shaking his head free of the oral assault.

A deep carnal groan rumbled in the man’s throat, this first taste of saliva enough the send him crazy with desire. Chris’ legs flailed wildly as soft full lips slid all over the square angles of his stubble-covered jaw and headed downwards, the obscenely long tongue snaking it’s way  over his thick-chorded muscular neck to lick up every last drop of glistening sweat. He bucked against his assailant again, trying to knock him off, but the effect of groin slamming against groin only served to increase the Majini’s arousal.

He bit down hard on the collar of Chris’ shirt and tore off a great strip of material on one side, rupturing the zip that ran part way down the centre of his chest. Soon enough the Majini’s rampant mouth was rolling all over the sweaty, part-exposed collarbone and top half of a lightly-haired pectoral, savouring the flavour as he began grinding his hips into Chris’ crotch. A massive erection prodded the agent through two pairs of trousers, thrusting hard against his bulge as he was dry-humped with more and more ferocity. The taste and feel of Chris’ perfect body quickly became too much for the overwhelmed Majini, and his bulk stiffened and shook as a massive orgasm surged through him, pumping thick reams of cum into his own tattered trousers. With his attacker momentarily overcome, Chris seized his chance to strike, wrenching an arm free and striking the ejaculating man hard on the side of the head with a paint pot. The blow knocked him sideways and he slumped on the floor, his limbs moving around in slow-motion as he drifted on the edge of consciousness.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Chris blurted out, staring at the damp patch in the Majini’s pants, and wiping the saliva off his mouth with the back of his glove.

He scrambled backwards in a panic towards the door.

One thing was for sure, he wasn’t going to stay and find out, and bounded down the stairs without retrieving his pistol. Arriving in the back alley outside, Chris lifted the M16 off his back and dashed warily into the tight winding passages of the shanty town that lay before him. The surrounding houses created a claustrophobic maze for Chris, their flattened oil drum walls producing a snaking path barely wider than his shoulders. As he began to put some distance between himself and his makeshift observation tower, a loud booming voice coming from the building halted him in his tracks.

The Majini had stumbled from his paint pot-induced slumber and was now at the window, shouting animatedly to the hundreds of men below. Excitement gripped the crowd as the salivating man passed on the news they had all longed to hear, whilst waving a tattered green fragment of B.S.A.A shirt high in the air above them. The throng rushed at the building with the Agitator at its head, desperate to examine any evidence left by this alleged intruder.

As the deep wailing voice emanating from his hideaway continued, Chris turned on his heels and sprinted, knowing exactly what it meant for his safety. They knew he was here, they ALL knew, and soon enough they’d be on his trail.

The room where he’d been perversely attacked was now packed with muscular Majini, all circled around the Agitator as he sniffed at the rag being held out for him to inspect. After taking in a good lung-full of Chris’ aroma, he grasped the back of the bruised Majini’s head and French-kissed him deeply, searching for the last remnants of the agent’s taste inside his mouth. Detecting that unmistakable flavour, the Agitator flung his head back and roared with lust. A clutch of his comrades shook with excitement as they sniffed at the torn green fabric, while others licked and sucked at the grip of Chris’ discarded pistol with uninhibited fervour. One by one the army of sexual predators sampled this prize quarry’s scent and taste, tearing away their clothes and psyching each other up with sex-drenched talk, the Agitator commanding them to pursue.

Their new target meanwhile was busy sprinting through an unending warren of shacks, glancing down at his belt compass as he sought out a route back to the beach. He could hear a waves of commotion rising from some way behind him as house by house, news of his presence spread. It grew like a tsunami across the town, and soon enough the lusty shouts of man-hunting gangs were echoing into the alleyways from the roads only a house's-width away. Chris knew he had to hide, and fast, as soon they would be searching the back passages for him.

He back-peddled to a rusted rear door he had just passed and tentatively nudged it open with the barrel of his M16. Just enough light leaked into the one-room shack for Chris to see that it was unoccupied, and so he slid inside, not noticing the two shadows appearing at the corner he had just passed. Immediately he set to work securing the house as best he could, bolting the front door before barricading it with and old chest of drawers. Needing both hands to drag the rickety one-man bed, he dropped his assault rifle on its flat threadbare mattress and started to heave it backwards towards the rear entrance. Its heavy wooden legs scraped loudly on the dirt floor, drowning out the creek of the backdoor slowly opening behind the oblivious hero.

Without warning a hand slammed over Chris’ mouth, wrenching him backwards into the clutches of one of the two Majini who had been stalking him silently through the alleyways.

“MMMPH!” Chris mumbled as he reached up with both hands, trying to pull the thick fingers away, only for another arm to bearhug his ribcage firmly from under the armpit.

While the first attacker tried to secure the bucking soldier, the second spotted the assault rifle resting on the bed. All resistance from Chris instantly ceased as he felt the cold muzzle of his own weapon thrust under his chin. He stared motionless at the armed and naked man threatening him. Six foot at least of sweaty ebony muscle glared back at him with burning ruby eyes, glistening strings of precum drooling onto the floor from his thick ten inch sex organ, another enhancement of the parasite.

He stepped back and gestured upwards with the barrel. Chris put his hands behind his head as the other Majini reached around to unclip his tactical belts. Both captors panted with excitement as the straps slid from the broad wings of Chris’ beefy shoulders onto the floor, ripping the earpiece from his head as they went. The one behind pressed himself close against Chris’ back with his rock-hard cock resting against the hero’s full firm backside, clear ooze from its tip staining his grey cargo pants. Hot breath blasted against his hair as dark hands flowed seductively around his sides to the place where his shirt was torn. A wet, slow lick from the Majini ran up the back of his neck as he simultaneously ruined the shirt some more, starting a rip lengthways down the middle of Chris’ torso.

While he was slowly unwrapped, the Majini ahead molested him with its eyes, its erection twitching and letting loose great streams of pre-cum as it drank in the spectacular sight of a powerful, bulging abdomen slowly bursting from under the fabric. The dark, hair filling his sternum was the first to appear, the follicles thinning-out perfectly as they spread away from the cleft and over the broad expanse of his enormous pectorals. Next came his stomach. Eight cobblestone squares, again feathered perfectly with hairs and flexing in and out with Chris’ agitated breaths. In one forceful motion, most of the shirt was torn away, leaving only the sleeves, shoulders, and the tattered fringes of the chest behind. With his nipples now in full view, the armed Majini stuttered forward, just managing to contain himself at the sight of such mouth-watering prominences. Big and brown, their thick erect nubs pointed out proudly from the broad rounded slabs. It took the all their effort for the Majini to stop themselves jumping him immediately, but they knew he was dangerous, and so had to be restrained first.

The one behind knelt down and started searching through Chris’ belt packs, tossing equipment in all directions before finally finding what he was looking for. He rose up again with a single pair of gleaming handcuffs in his grasp, and pulled the agent’s hands high in the air and around a low wooden roof beam. A couple of clicks were all it took, and their hapless prey was secure.

Now free to molest at will, they wasted no time. The assault rifle clattered to the floor and its last holder dropped to his knees and gripped Chris’ legs, slamming its mouth hard against his toned belly. At the same moment his partner bear-hugged the agent from behind, his hands groping his pecs wildly while it sucked and licked at his thick neck. Ragged breaths washed over his hot skin as they drank in his flavour, seemingly not able to make their mouths work fast enough to satisfy their insane thirst.

“uuuh....FUCK”, Chris spat out under his breath, looking up at the corrugated roof in exasperation as a ravenous tongue traced the lines dividing his quivering abdominals.

With one attacker probing for sweat inside his naval, the other made Chris’ body jolt hard as he reached around and grabbed hold of his groin. Firmly gripping his well-filled crotch with both hands, he dry-humped the still-protected glutes, making beads of precum spatter all over Chris’ exposed lower back.

The soldier’s mind span.

While he searched through all his training and experience for some useful memory that could help him escape, his eyes frantically scanned the tiny home for something, ANYTHING he could use. Nothing but old pot and pans sat on the rotted tables and shelves around him, but before he had time to lament the lack of useful implements, his gaze was drawn upwards by the sound of thunder. A massive storm was rolling in off the Atlantic, ready the dump its load all over the town. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise. As the first drops of rain started tapping against the tin roof, a noisy cluster of men stopped outside the shack, drawn by the mild scent floating around the street. His two attackers froze, not wanting to share their prize. All three of them stared in silence at the shadows blocking the light that bled in from around the door.

Chris was equally keen not to have even more perverted attention, so stilled himself as the door knob slowly turned. A few impatient shoves made the barricaded entrance shudder on its hinges and the chest of drawers sway. The Majini behind him tensed as it watched, its fingers sinking into the grey fabric of his pants, gripping his package a little more tightly. Chris’ breath hitched as one last shove at the door made the heavy piece of furniture lurch forward on its legs, almost toppling. Any second they’d be in, but nearby flash overhead caught everyone’s attention. A huge roar of thunder followed fast behind it, heralding a sudden massive downpour. Instantly Chris’ aroma was ripped out of the air by the torrent, and the silhouettes at the door quickly moved off, discouraged from standing still too long by the soaking they were now getting.

Chris’ relief at their departure was short-lived however, as the assault resumed in earnest. Groping hands teased his skin again, the two Majini begining to explore more of their hunky man-toy. He grunted as one worked on his nipples, sucking at the brown peaks with all the enthusiasm of a thirsty piglet, while the other licked dry every inch of his spine. All Chris could do was endure it, fixing his gaze anywhere but on his attackers, All while the rain beat a deafening rumble against the roof.

That was when he spotted it.

The beam his was shackled to, it was rocking slightly on its fixings as he was man-handled. The ends of the wood were rotted where they met the walls on both sides and the badly-driven nails were slowly being worked loose by the commotion. Seeing his chance, Chris carefully repositioned his hands so he could grip the timber, and began subtlety twisting it back and forth. The peril he was in quickly escalated though, as he felt the hands on his package slide upwards and begin ridding him of his trousers. His view part-blocked by the Majini sucking on his pecs, he was left only with the feeling of the button popping and the pants loosening on his hips. The teeth of his zip parted achingly slowly, and before it was even half open, the alarming sensation of a hand slipping inside and kneading his heavy bulge spurred Chris into working faster.

As he twisted the joist with all his might, the other Majini abruptly rose up, grabbed Chris’ head in both hands, and after growling something in Swahili, locked his lips over his mouth.

“Gooa...mmph!” the agent gargled around the invading tongue, a savagely rough French kiss almost sucking his tonsils out.

With a tongue dancing around in his mouth, teeth play-biting the back of his neck, and groping fingers rolling his balls around through tissue-thin material, what Chris just managed to see behind the Majini’s head was manna from heaven. Long mouldy splinters were falling away from the ends of the joist as the last nails gave way, and gravity deposited the beam effortlessly into his grasp. Wasting no time with his new weapon, he dropped it onto his shoulder and spun around with all the strength he could muster, slamming the wood hard into the sides of both Majini’s skulls. The force of the blow sent them careering away from him in opposite directions, the instantly limp body of one falling like a sack of coal on top of Chris’ rifle, while the other tumbled in a mess of limbs onto the bed. Semi-conscious, the Majini writhed on the floor, clutching his head in agony as Chris slipped his bound hands off the joist. He yanked at the butt of his gun, trying to prize it free from under the mountain of muscle slumped on it, but had to leave it up as his other attacker was now on his hands and knees on the matress, his pain diminishing and  slowly regaining his senses. Chris scrambled instead for his utility packs, his loose trousers held on only by the gun holster clipped to his thigh.

“Where the fuck are you!?” he growled, pieces of equipment spilling everywhere as his frenzied hands dug for the keys to his cuffs.

After what felt like a millennia of searching, the tiny chrome keys fell into his grasp, but the Majini was now clumsily rising to his feet and shaking his head to clear his blurred vision. Chris stumbled backwards towards the rear door, hurriedly unlocking one manacle as he went. Just as the hooked metal slipped off his wrist, the man-hunter locked eyes with him, pausing for only a tiny instant to let his dizzy mind fix target again before leaping at Chris.

Both men burst through the door as one big black and white blur, landing with a splash on the saturated the dirt outside. Heavy sheets of warm tropical rain beat down on the muscular combatants as they rolled through rust-red puddles together. Fighting desperately for control, eventually one had to gain the upper hand, and unfortunately for Chris, it wasn’t him. The Majini slammed him onto his belly and sat on the small of his back, catching his struggling arms and refastened the cuffs. Seated on the hero’s spine, he spun around and pulled at his loose pants, lifting Chris’ legs clean into the air from the force of pulling gun holster and kneepads all the way to his ankles. Wet fingers scratched at his boot laces before the whole lot came off in one go, leaving the struggling agent’s wet lower half protected only by his thin black skin-tight compression shorts, and his jock strap.

The Majini spun around again and slid his rump backwards down Chris’ thighs, coming to rest on the back of his meaty calves. With his prey now perfectly immobilised, he grabbed his hips and hoisted his rear end into the air, slamming Chris’ face hard into the alleyway’s muddy surface in the process. Two firm round bull-glutes were now hovering in the man’s face, gift-wrapped in soaking wet translucent spandex with the white straps of his underwear showing through. His hands rolled over them, fingers curling around the waistband either side. Chris panted heavily as he felt himself being stripped of his dignity, heavy raindrops striking newly exposed skin as the saturated fabric was peeled away. A guttural grunt rumbled from his attacker as the object if his insane lust came into view. A clean, pink untouched sphincter sitting perfectly in a muscular, downy-haired valley, now exposed and ripe to be corrupted.

Hot breath blasted against it, swiftly followed by a ravenous mouth.

“FFF...FFUCK!” Chris managed to spit out, almost choking on the curse word from shock.

His whole frame shook as his most intimate of places was bombarded with unwelcome sensations, thick lips and an ever thicker, lion-sized tongue coating the whole sensitive area with saliva.

The Majini revelled in it, the arteries bulging on its neck as it lapped up the taste and texture of his prey’s entrance like it was covered in honey. Its tongue pushed at Chris’ backdoor, but he had shut it tight by now, not prepared to accept any kind of invasion. Unfortunately for B.S.A.A’S best agent, it had another battering ram more than capable of doing the job. This wasn’t a problem he had considered however, as his attention had just been drawn to a helpful detail. His handcuff keys were still in the lock of the manacle on his wrist.

If he could just get to them with his fingers…

Onto its knees rose nearly seven feet of raw, corrupted African muscle, taking its thick ten inch member in hand and greasing a mixture of rainwater and precum all over its throbbing girth. Chris struggled, twisted his hands around eachother, desperately trying to grip the tiny slippery keys in the right way to turn them. A broad bulbous glans was now rubbing up and down between his cheeks, lubing his crack for the assault that would surely follow at any second.

Chris’ heart hammered in his chest, his wet digits fumbling as a steaming hot cockhead pressed against its target, oozing fresh precum against his unbroken anus. Knowing he was out of time, he clenched with all his might, desperate to hold it back those precious few seconds he needed to free himself. With the key half turned, his head and shoulders slid forward in the mud from the strengthening hip-thrusts testing his tight hole. He felt his ring being pushed inwards by the unrelenting force, almost like it was trying to escape by hiding deeper inside him. Chris’ eyes widened as it finally started to give way, but just as the muscles began to dilate around the bullet-tip, the cuffs sprang open.

All his close-quarters combat training came to the fore. He reached back with both hands and took the Majini in a headlock, throwing it forward over his shoulder. Blobs of dirt spattered into Chris’ eyes as it landed with a heavy thud onto the sodden earth. The moment he took clearing the gritty ochre soil from his vision was one his attacker made quick use of. Slamming into Chris as he tried to stand, he threw him down onto his back, his attacker’s full hefty mass knocking the air from him as he seated himself on Chris’ pecs. With his compression shorts tangled around his ankles now, Chris could do little with his legs, and even less with his arms, expertly pinned as they were by the Majini’s massive legs. A cock like an an artillery shell hovered over his face, its clear excretion dribbling onto his mouth and nose with the rain. Chris tried to shake his face free of it, but the Majini grabbed his head and shoved his thumbs through pursed lips to force open his stubbled jaw.

In a second it was on his tongue. Ten inches of thick ebony shaft, pulsing with heat and being pushed deep by the unstoppable force of the Majini’s muscular hips. Chris bucked wildly as the cockhead’s broad corona rubbed along the roof of his mouth, the tip eventually meeting the back of his throat and making him gag. And there…it just stopped, held still by its owner, who hovered motionless over the struggling agent, his cheeks beginning to flush with choked panic. They locked eyes, the Majini’s full of threat as it growled in Swahili. The words were a mystery to Chris, but their tone seemed to pass on a warning that he understood perfectly well.

‘ _STOP, OR I’LL LET YOU CHOKE.'_

Reluctantly, all his straining muscles relaxed, and for a couple of seconds he and his attacker just sat there in stock-still contact, rain sliding over there steaming bulks. A black herculean torso filled his vision, and a dark smile crossed his assailant’s lips as he looked down on him, electricity forking across the sky behind. With horrible inevitability, he prepared, gripping Chris’ hair with one hand and cradling the back of his head with the other. Slowly, he drew back his thick shaft until the purple bulb hovered on gasping lips. Another pause. A swell of precum trickled onto Chris’ tongue, and then the assault began. He pulled his head onto his monster dick and threw his hips forward, hammering every solid inch in until the hero’s nose was buried in a mass of curly musk-laden pubic hairs. Tears streamed from Chris’s bulging eyes as he throated it all, every artery in his reddening neck looking ready to burst.

The brutal skull-fuck was unrelenting. The Majini taking huge pleasure in making each trust go from tip to hilt of his mighty tool. Just like with Chris’ first attacker, this one’s excitement got the better of him mercifully quickly, and his thrusts were now becoming ragged and uneven. He slammed Chris’ head into the sodden earth, ploughing into his throat as deep as he could get it. His whole frame shuddered. Chris felt the first hot rope of fluid spurt hit the back of his throat. The orgasm seemed to last an age, and the Majini was holding his nose shut now. With his breathing cut off and so much semen filling his mouth, he had no choice but to gulp the sperm-rich cream down. As Chris swallowed a second mouthful, the Majini released his nostrils and pulled out, wailing in ecstasy from the final high-pressure spurt that sprayed all over Chris’ handsome face.

He had no time to feel disgusted by what had just happen to him, as he knew his still-shuddering attacker was vulnerable for this one moment only. With its head thrown back in pleasure from the last few orgasmic sensations, Chris lifted his legs up as high as he could until his whole waist was off the ground before bringing his compression shorts down over

The man’s face and snagging him by the neck. Chris slammed him backwards into the dirt, but he quickly back-rolled away from the soldier, landing neatly on all-fours. Without hesitation, he lunged again, but this time Chris was ready, kicking him full in the face with both feet. The force of the blow made his body sag in mid-air and he dropped like a stone, sending waves of mud in all directions. And there he stayed, limp at Chris’ feet. Knocked clean out. Panting heavily, he struggled to his feet, clumsily pulling his soggy, skin-tight compression shorts back over his thighs.

The rain washed the semen from his face as he ran away through the alley, spitting the last traces of seed from his throat as his mind raced.

“What the fuck have they done to these people?!”, he panted with angry exasperation, still a glimmer of sympathy left in his mind for the towns inhabitants despite what had been inflicted on him.

Running to the corner of a house were the back ally joined the street, Chris peered around it, watching as gangs of men jogged aimlessly in all directions through the downpour, still seeking him out. He wasn’t that far from the beach.

_Let the boat still be there..._

Darting between buildings, he snaked his way laboriously towards the sea, often having to slam his body flat against a tin wall, or climb on a rooftop as another hunting party came by. The rain concealed his tracks nicely, and he covered most of the distance safely. He was nearly there now, and could see the waves breaking in the distance. He darted between torched vehicles, weaving a path to the scatter of cargo containers at the top of the beach. Relief washed over Chris face as he caught sight of his skiff still on the tideline, but just as he was about to run out onto the open sand, he heard the deep grumbling chatter of a group of men approaching along the beach. He darted inside the nearest container, pulling the heavy, half-open door shut behind him. Peering through a rust hole, Chris watched as the six burly, ragged-clothed men descended on his boat, pawing at the items inside.

_Just my luck._

After making it all the way across town he’d been halted only thirty metres from freedom. And on top of that, the storm was breaking up now, the lightening rain coming in through the gaping holes in the container’s roof fast being replaced by shafts of equatorial sunshine. Minutes ticked by, the light warming Chris’ bare back, His hunters milling around his only means of escape. With the rain now gone, there was nothing to hide the agent’s musky scent which was now rising from his hiding place and out into the open air like a smoke signal. One of the men leaning into the skiff suddenly stood bolt upright, his nose rising up to catch the wind. He grabbed the arm of one of his comrades, pulling him up to his side. Having clearly been told to, that one also sniffed the air, his eyes widening as he caught the same unmistakable smell. Soon enough all six were moving up the beach, that intoxicating aroma drawing them towards the suddenly much more interesting looking shipping container.

“Shit!” Chris whispered, backing away from his spy-hole as they neared.

Panic gripped him. The door only locked from the outside and the only other exits were the holes in the roof. He jumped to grab the rim of one and climb out, but its rusted edge just bent and crumbled in his hands. The the men’s voices grew nearer. He backed slowly towards the far end, his muscle-stacked spine pressing hard against the metal wall as his heart pounded. Achingly slowly the doors began to open, their oil-starved hinges groaning loudly as light poured inside. Silhouetted figures hovered at the mouth of the container, their glowing red eyes pouring over their cornered quarry’s bare skin. They just stared for a few moments, seemingly not able to believe their eyes, before one muttered something curtly to the others. Never breaking eye-contact with him, they shed their clothes, some not even bothering with buttons and simply ripping their tattered shirts off.

Unarmed and with nowhere left to go, Chris readied himself, putting his fists up as the gang paced carefully inside towards him. He would fight them all together if he had to. In the end though, he wouldn’t get much of a chance to. As soon as he threw a punch at the first one to step near enough, they all jumped him together, his arms quickly lost in their grasp. He bucked and jerked as hands groped at his body, stretching the elasticated compression shorts far from his thighs until the man-made fabric ruptured from the strain. Tongues and fingers rolled all over him, searching his crevices, licking and groping at his muscles. He resisted with all his strength, trying to break free, but the flexing and bulging of his muscle groups only made his attackers more aroused, and they jostled with each other for access to his body, pulling and sucking at his nipples until they were bullet-hard. His stomach muscles quivered as another mouth kissed its way down them, following the hairs trailing from his naval to the pouch of his jock strap. Saliva drenched the soft green fabric as the Majini nuzzled Chris’ flaccid manhood and buried his nose deep under the hefty gonads. Turned on beyond description, the man was about to remove this last material barrier when a deep calm voice from behind made him and the others turn in unison. They parted before Chris, giving him a perfect view of the man standing just outside the container.

The Agitator.

He was the only Majini Chris wanted to see even less than the ones molesting him. The Agitator paused for a moment, the mildest of smiles crossing his lips before he raised the megaphone high and pressed a button on it, filling the air with a shrill police klaxon. Satisfied that its signal had blared out long enough to alert everyone, the leather-clad hulk set the device down and strolled up to the group. He spoke barely above a whisper, but his words had an instant impact. As soon as instructed, the Majini lifted Chris off his feet, holding him belly up in mid-air by all four limbs. The Agitator standing between his spread legs, a Buddha-like smile playing on his lips. Two images of Chris’ own prostrate form reflected back at him in the crazed leader’s mirrored shades, their wearer reaching forward to tear the last remnants of Chris’ shirt off his shoulders. He looked at the B.S.A.A patch on the tattered sleeve for a moment, before tearing the insignia in two with his bare hands, straight down the middle of its bold red letters.

_You’re ours now._

Chris gulped as a hungry-eyed crowd began to fill the container behind their chief.  He shuddered as the Agitator drew a finger firmly up the cleft of his gym-bulked rump and lifted it to his lips, curling his tongue around it’s now man-flavoured tip. Muscular and unpenetrated, Chris was sexual perfection to the beefy general, who as leader had the pleasure of breaking him in first. Freeing his huge pulsing dick from its denim prison, he pressed the leaking tip to his anus. Chris clenched with all his strength, but there would be no last-minute reprieve this time. The Agitator leaned forward to grip Chris’ strapping shoulders, and with a roaring laugh, let rip.

“N-NO, YOU CAN’T! DON-AAAGH!!” The agent wailed as a broad glans burst through his ring, making his back arch hard.

A long shaky groan rang out from him as the iron-hard girth was planted to the hilt, its throbbing velvety surface hot against his insides.

“FUUUUUCK!!!” he cried out as a pitiless bone-jarring fuck commenced, his head rolling back from the unfamiliar sensations.

A ripple of aroused noises flowing from the still-growing audience, their eyes on stalks as a perfect male specimen was defiled in front of them. Hundreds now were crowding around the container, some of them peering in through the rust holes while others scrambled up top, their shadowy faces leering down on Chris through the breaches as they stroked their glistening cocks. All hope of escape seemed lost. Everywhere he looked, Carnal eyes were staring back at him, drinking in his defilement. His teeth were still gritted against the thrusts, but the pain was at least fading now, the combination of relaxing muscles and copious amounts of precum allowing his body to grow used to the invasion. The Agitator ran his hands up and down Chris’ chiselled torso, sometimes gripping his nipples or groping his package to illicit a ring-tightening shudder. Unable to contain themselves, some Majini were cumming just from the spectacle, and the Agitator himself was now close to the edge too. A last few grunted shoves were all it took, his balls pressed hard against Chris’ meaty butt cheeks as he blasted his bowels full of tainted seed.

Having bred the defenceless hero, he pulled back, some of his cream oozing from Chris’ loosened hole as his cockhead popped free. The Agitator looked down on his sweating white muscle-toy with satisfaction, and grinning, tore away the only item of clothing left that gave him any dignity, his jockstrap. One strong yank tore the elastic straps apart, and all the men gasped as a beam of sunlight fell upon Chris’ long flaccid dick and peach-sized balls. The agitator stepped back, pushing his slipped shades back up his nose, as all his followers looked at him, hungry with expectation. A single phrase left his lips, the words low and short. To Chris it was unintelligible, but judging by the excited reactions of every other man present, to them it was clear and unambiguous.

_FILL HIM._

An army of hands, mouths and tongues converged on Chris as the Agitator moved away towards the doors, picking up his megaphone to issue orders again. Even in Chris’ darkest nightmares he couldn’t have imagined what was about to be done to him. His head was yanked back and a long curving cock filled his throat until he felt hairs tickling his face. The fuzzy image of a heavy ball sack hitting his nose was all that filled his vision, and it was left to his imagination to picture what was being done to the rest of him. Lips were gluing themselves to his nipples just as each of his balls were being sucked into two hungry Majini mouths. Countless wet tongues writhed over his dormant member, determined to stimulate it into life. All this was as nothing compared to the invasion happening between his cheeks. Digits probed and curled their way inside his cum-slicked hole, tugging roughly at its muscled rim to open him up. Choked groans escaped the agent as he was forcibly dilated by his perverted attackers, who had plenty more in store for his rectum than just the index fingers now probing it, as he was about to find out.

Confused shock flitted through Chris’ mind as something solid and wide arrived at his loosened chute, pushing at it with some force.

_FUUUCK_ _!_

His ring struggled to stretched over a thick square, precum-slicked fist. Forced in all the way to the wrist, Chris’ whole body jerked as the clenched hand rotated around, each of its knuckles grazing his prostate as it went.

Chris was losing it completely. All these wrong, obscene, perverted things were being done to his most intimate areas, and by now there were tongues seemingly on every muscle he had, even sliding around on his back from underneath. His eyes screwed shut with shame as blood surged to his groin, and the cluster of Majini working his dick gasped triumphantly as it rapidly inflated into a rock-hard twelve-incher. Mouths fought over the bulbous glans and sucked at its velvety shaft, all while a thick hairy forearm shoved ever deeper into his guts. It was in all the way to the elbow before it started fisting him like a jack-hammer. Hungry Fingers pushing into the tormented ring even as it rammed in and out. Unable to hold back anymore, the Majini Skull-fucking him shook violently, gripping his neck tightly with both hands  as it flooding his mouth with thick, hot spunk. Cum rained down on Chris’ body from the over-excited Majini above as they watched him being compelled to orgasm by their ravenous compatriots, his shaking limbs and blushing skin a sign that they had almost broken him.

_N-NOOO!_

His balls burst from the mouths sucking on them and contracted tightly against the base of his shaft. Every vein in his body stood bulged with hot blood as the moment finally came, the sloppy cock in his mouth slipping from his lips just in time to let him roar its arrival.

“FFFUUUCKK!!!” he bellowed as he blew his load high into the musky air, the endless ropes landing thick and steaming all over himself and his attackers, who licked manically at him and each other for a taste of his seed.

Once the last ream of his pearly cum had ejected, Chris’ body slumped, his post-orgasmic high temporarily robbing him of any sense of shame over what his body had just done. Only for a few moments though, the hand pulling out from his tight anal muscles snapping him back to reality. The assault was still happening. Mouths were still ravenously pouring over his curves, and a now a new precum-oozing glans was pushing at his gasping mouth.

_WHY…?_

The answer was simple.

He’d been inoculated against the Plagas parasite before the mission.

That act was meant to protect him, instead it guaranteed his fate.

He could never become a Majini like his attackers.

The smells and flavours driving their lust would never fade.

And so it continued, his feet never touching the ground. Exhausted men stumbling from the container only to be replaced by more. Trying to infect a man who never could be.

He gagged from another skull-fuck, two new pulsing organs ramming into his vacant sphincter, another two pressed into his empty palms, and yet more. Under his armpits, his knee joints, or just rubbed against any bare patch of skin they could find. All while the Agitator stood by watching, marshalling his army of rapists into lines that meandered far away from the rusting metal container and off into the streets of Kijuju.

Minute became hours, and out on the beach, the sun fell red and hot below the horizon. The world outside became a distant irrelevance to Chris Redfield, as his mind slowly dissolved. Bathed in the tainted seed of a thousand mindless Majini.

...GAME OVER...?

 


End file.
